


Shadow Binder

by Valar_Ipradtis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16720299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valar_Ipradtis/pseuds/Valar_Ipradtis
Summary: He left when he was just a child. Banished to the ends of the world, he learned the dark craft of the people of Asshai. After learning of the death of Ned Stark, he must come back to his rightful place among the Starks. Follow as he carves a path of destruction in his wake, destroying his enemies with a blade of darkness. It's time for Jon Snow to leave his mark on the world. Jonsa.





	1. Reunions and Strangers

“It’s not about glory!” Robb barks out, barely containing his anger at Edmure’s self proclaimed glory, “Now tell me, what good is the mill?”

“I saw an opportunity to drive the Lannister forces back, and I succeeded.” Edmure tried to argue his case.

“Succeeded in what?!” roared Robb, “Not only did you let the mountain escape, you lost two hundred of our men. How do you suppose we win this war when the Lannister forces have retreated back to their lands and they still have my sisters?”

“... I’m sorry, I didn’t know” Edmure muttered shamefully, his eyes unable to meet Robb’s intense glare as he finally realizes his mistake.

“The only reason you’re in this war room is because you share blood with my mother. The next time you disobey my orders, you’ll find another king to follow. Do you understand?” Robb warned.

“Yes, your grace.”

Suddenly the doors slammed open with a bang, revealing a guard hunched over trying to catch his breath.

“Y-your grace…” the guard stammered.

“What!” Robb growled, lashing out the remnants of his rage from earlier.

The guard gulped and looked up nervously, “T-there’s a rider at the gates, your grace. Says he request an audience with the King immediately.”

Robb felt his irritation bubble up once more. “The next time you decide to interrupt a war meeting with news of some random stranger showing up at the gates, you’ll be cleaning the latrines. Now unless the mountain decides to show up at our front gates, or my sisters for that matter, do not show your face again.” Robb rubbed his temples sighing at the incompetence of his Riverland soldiers.

The guard shook even more nervously than before as visible beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. “A-actually your grace, the man seems to have both in his custody.”

Robb snapped his eyes to the guard instantly.

“He has a man in chains walking besides his horse. The guards from the tower say he’s the biggest man he’s ever seen, as big as a … a mountain, I suppose. And the rider claims to have Lady Sansa and Lady Arya with him on the horse.”

Robb stood up, pushing his wooden chair back loudly against the stone floor before the poor man can even finish. “Take me to him. Now!”

* * *

“Open the gates!!!”

Robb stood impatiently, waiting for the huge drawbridge to be lowered allowing the rider access over the moat. His heart pounded within his chest, hoping that somehow the idiotic guards were correct. As the bridge came down on the other side with a thud, Robb’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him.

True to the guards words, Gregor Clegane stood next to the rider in chains wrapped around his entire body and a sack over his head. As the rider began forward across the bridge dragging the Mountain with him, Robb couldn’t help but snort in amusement at the sight. While the rider clearly held the Clegane in his captivity, the scene reminded Robb of his dear siblings walking their pet direwolves on a leash as the Mountain towered over the rider even whilst on his horse. As the figures approached closer, Robb noticed three figures on the horse, two smaller ones sat in front of a third figure clothed in a black cloak and hood. A splash of red hair was splayed across the black cloak as it somehow wrapped around the second figure as well. That’s Sansa no doubt, and the one in front must be Arya, Robb thought. He had to fight every urge in his body to run forwards and gather up his sisters in his embrace and hold them forever. His mother, however, held no such inhibitions.

Catelyn raced forward towards the figures as fast as she could, pulling up the skirts of her dress slightly so as to not trip over the edges. Although she was not at the war room at the time, she soon heard the news and rushed down from her chamber. Ever since Robb had caught her trying to free the Kingslayer, she had been confined to her chambers and Jaime Lannister had been placed under the guard of fifty of his best men. Now hearing of a possibility of her daughters not only being alive but possibly right in front of her, Catelyn almost didn’t know what to think. She had thought she’d lost both of them when Robb refused to trade one Lannister for two Starks. Whoever this rider was, she’d be indebted to him for the rest of her life.

Even though she had abandoned all rationality in sprinting towards a stranger who could be an enemy, an unconscious part of her mind still told her to stay away from the beast in chains. Even though his arms were bound tightly behind his back, he could still easily crush her by just jumping on top of her. As she slowed to a stop on the side of the rider opposite the Mountain, she immediately recognized the front two figures on the horse. 

“Arya, Sansa”, Catelyn gasped as tears swelled in her eyes in relief. Arya leapt off the horse and into the embrace of her mother while Sansa stayed on the horse awaiting the rider to help her off her seat. They really are my daughters, Catelyn smiled at the thought, haven’t changed a bit. However, Catelyn started to worry when Sansa still clung to the rider after they dismounted at the same time. And for the first time, Catelyn noticed the haunted look in Sansa’s eyes as they darted around her surroundings. Looking down, she saw that Arya had noticed as well and adopted a sad look in her eyes. King’s Landing must’ve been hell for the both of them, they’re no longer the same girls that left Winterfell. It was only after reassurances and comforting from the mysterious stranger did Sansa finally leave his embrace. When her eyes finally settled on Catelyn, a look of recognition flashed through her eyes, and like Arya, she rushed into her mother’s embrace. 

Seeing his mother embrace the two figures, Robb quickly approached the group. All doubt left him as he too laid eyes on his sisters. Without a word, he wrapped everyone in his large arms, tears falling in disbelief of the moment. The Starks, what were left of them, were finally together at last.

Robb was the quickest to come to his senses and turned to the stranger, who had been patiently waiting on the side with his prisoner standing sluggish beside him. Robb eyed the man curiously, wondering who in the seven kingdoms could’ve single-handedly defeated the Mountain and rescued his sisters. Robb tried to peer underneath his cowl at his face, but shadows seem to swirl beneath his hood, bending to conceal his identity. Clearing his throat silently, Robb used his King’s voice, “The North is forever in your debt, ser. Tell me your name and I’ll grant you anything you ask that is within reason. I swear it on the old gods and the new.”

Perhaps somewhat recognizing the voice of the King in the North in his half comatose state, Gregor Clegane lunged at the voice, straining against the chains. The hooded rider whispered an unintelligible word. Immediately the chains tightened around the prisoner as shadows flowed from his sleeves onto the chains he was holding. For the first time, Robb and Catelyn noticed the black chains that bound the Mountain weren’t some strange metal as they first thought. It was a physical manifestation of shadows that were somehow being controlled by the rider. 

Never in his life had Robb ever witnessed something like this. He remembered the awe he first felt upon seeing the Weirwoods in the North. His father had taken him to educate him on the Old Gods and the First Men, and it was then that Robb started believing there were forces beyond human in this world. But seeing the display now, Robb was at a loss for words.

When he finally gathered himself, he asked once again, although much less authoritative. “Who are you, ser?”

The mysterious rider chuckled in a deep sound that revealed the hidden power of this man. “I am no knight, your grace. You have no cause to name me ‘ser’ .”

Catelyn, who now stood beside Robb, had a completely different reaction than he did. Upon seeing his powers on display, it was as if a memory revealed itself to her. One buried deep within her brain, long forgotten, of a Prince that escaped to the ends of the known world. Oh, how long ago that was. Far before all this messed had occured. Ned would be so proud to see you once again, she thought.

Gathering a fond smile on her face, Catelyn stepped towards the stranger. “It’s so good to see you again, Jon.”


	2. Past

The group decided to gather in the Lord’s chamber where Robb now resided; their meeting was far too important to be meeting in the war room or the main hall where unwanted ears would be prying for secrets. Robb reminded himself that even though he was half-Tully, he was a true Northerner. What he wouldn’t do to be back in his own chamber now back in Winterfell. But alas, he has a duty now and a war to win. We’ll all go back to home when this is all over, Robb thought. This room was far too large and extravagant to be cozy enough for a resting chamber; one befitting a southern King.

Winter is coming. The Starks are once again reminded of the phrase that their father uttered so many countless times. Robb felt a slight chill in the room despite the fire burning brightly nearby. Summer was almost at their ends, and winter will truly come for everyone, even the Dornish in the far south. 

Robb sat at the head of the table with his mother, Catelyn, and a strange foreign woman on his sides. She held a sort of exotic beauty; noble features hidden by her common rags and wear. “This is Talisa of Volantis,” Robb introduced, and in an almost bashful voice completely opposite his kingly tone, “and soon to be my wife.” Robb can keep his composure facing off against thousands of Lannister soldiers, but faced with his beautiful lover, he still blushed, revealing his young age of only five and ten. He may have been the King the North needed, but he was still a child, at least in terms of love.

Catelyn sighed in resignation at the statement. No matter how hard she’d advised against the move, her son wouldn’t listen. He is a King now, I suppose. Even though she was wary of breaking a vow, against the wormy Walder Frey noless, she was happy for him and the family. The Starks will live on, Catelyn thought with a smile. 

Arya stared at the women in curiosity. Talisa was dressed more similarly to Arya than to some highborn lady befitting the betrothal to a King. Mud and blood stained her clothes and part of her face. “Talisa has been serving as our field doctor. She’s saved more lives than I can count,” Robb declared proudly. She gave Arya a kind smile and received one in return.

Robb moved his gaze to Sansa, and a frown developed on his face. It was as if she was experiencing a nightmare while awake. She was slightly shivering, and her eyes had a faraway look, no doubt reliving her time at King’s Landing. Jon had noticed as well and subtly pulled her closer to himself. Sansa closed her eyes and sunk into Jon’s cloak, tears spilling out of her closed eyes. Slowly she calmed down, returning to the present and looked at Robb and Talisa with a hint of a smile on her face. She still couldn’t believe that she was finally out of Joffrey’s grasp, but here with her family and in the comfort of Jon’s embrace, she finally started believing again.

Robb didn’t know where to start, “So…

Catelyn interrupted, saving Robb from the silence, “Why don’t we start with you, Jon? I doubt Robb even remembers you from when you were both children.”

Jon slowly removed his hood, and for the first time, Robb got a good look at his features. His face was without a doubt Northern, even holding uncanny resemblance to his own father. But whereas his father had more of a solemn and hard face, Jon’s face held softer features beneath his northern beard and hair that was tied back exactly like Ned’s.

Shadow’s swirled around Jon’s eyes as he stared into Robb’s. All of a sudden, Robb felt a shock run through his body, as memories slowly started to return to him. Memories that were so strange, and yet were without a doubt his own. He held his head in confusion, unable to discern reality from dream.

“Robb, wait!” 

The young five year old turned around at the voice, “Hurry up, Jon. You don’t want to be lost in the Weirwoods.”

(Scene shift)

“Yield!” Robb crossed his eyes slightly to look up at the point of the wooden sword pointed at him. His eyes shifted to the wielder of the sword to see a boy the age of seven with black curls.

“Have you been slacking in your sword fighting, Robb?” Asked Ser Rodrik with a hint of amusement on his face, “It’s unsightly for the future Lord of Winterfell to be beaten to the dirt every morning.”

The boys looked at each other and shared a laugh as Robb was helped off the ground.

(Scene shift)

Robb, now at the age of ten, stood next to his sisters Sansa and Arya in the Winterfell courtyards. Sansa was seven and Arya had just turned five. All of them were in tears at having to see the young boy leave. Even though they knew he wasn’t their brother, they’ve always treated him like he was a part of their family. Losing him felt like they were losing an important part of their life.

“Why must Jon leave, father? Why can’t he stay at Winterfell with the rest of us?” Robb asked his parents with tears in his eyes. Ned and Catelyn could barely keep their own tears at bay. 

“Jon’s place is elsewhere. He has a duty to fulfill. He will return when the time is right.” Ned responded with a grim face.

Catelyn looked towards her three children old enough to understand the situation and to have developed a close relationship with Jon. “Remember when we told you about Jon’s parents?”, Catelyn asked with a sad smile on her face, “Remember the story your father and I told you about your Aunt Lyanna and the prince?”

The three children nodded their heads slowly, remembering the sad tales of Jon’s parents.

“Well Jon just has to leave for a little bit. It’s for his own safety and all of us too. If the king finds out who he is and that we’ve been protecting him, we’ll all be in danger.”

“But mother, why can’t we protect him?” Sansa asked, “Father is the best warrior in the Seven Kingdoms and the North has a huge army.” Sansa motioned with her arms. She loved Jon. He was always there for her when Robb and Theon would tease her, when Arya was mean to her, and when the older boys at the feasts would try to corner her. Jon was her knight in shining armor.

Catelyn finally let her tears fall and embraced her three children, turning them away from the scene of Jon being led away from them by a strange man in a black cloak and hood. She looked towards her husband asking one final time with her eyes whether they’ve made the right decision. Ned stared back with a solemn look as if to say “What’s done is done, my dear.” Catelyn looked at the stranger and turned her eyes towards his hood. All of a sudden, a shock traveled through her and the three children gathered in her arms, and she felt a strange sensation in her head. 

“Father, who is that strange man and the boy”, Robb asked in curiosity.

Ned sighed wistfully. I’m sorry, Lyanna. This is best for Jon. “Just some farmer and his son asking for men to protect his land from bandits.” Ned answered with a lie. “Head inside now with your mother, it’s getting dark outside.” Ned watched the stranger leave with his nephew Jon on horses and gave Jon one last smile as he rode out of the Winterfell gates. Jon gave him a look of determination, promising to return to his rightful place one day.

Ned turned around and returned to within the castle, following Catelyn and his children. He saw all of their confused states as they slowly trekked back, wondering what they were doing outside. I’m sorry Cat, Ned thought, Not even you can know of this secret.


	3. Legend

“How… how could I have forgotten Jon?” Robb still held his head within his hands, looking on at Jon in disbelief.

“My mentor erased everyone’s memories before we left, leaving only Ned’s”, Jon explained. “I’ve only just restored the memories of the people in this room.”

“Why… I’d never betray you Jon. You were my closest friend, the brother my own age. I would have never told a soul.” Robb said, thinking of what he lost all those years ago.

“Knowledge is dangerous, Robb. And Ned understood that. Knowing things puts you and your family in danger. I know you’d never betray me willingly, but Ned did what was best for all of us.” Jon explained with a sad smile on his face.

Robb walked around the table and grabbed Jon in an embrace: “It’s good to see you again, brother.”

“Same here. But as much as I’d love to have a whole family reunion, there’s business we must get down to.” Robb nodded in understanding and returned to his seat. 

“Forget all of this for a second. I want to know how in the seven hells did you capture that?” Robb stared out the window into the courtyard below where the Mountain was now held in real chains. 5 guards were struggling to drag the stationary Clegane into a cell specially built for his humongous size. “In fact, how did you drag him across the Westernlands all the way here to Riverrun? Last we heard he retreated back into Casterly Rock.”

“Robb… those five years I spent learned things that aren’t of this world. They’re beyond human; no one should have this power without check. Tell me Robb, have you ever heard of the shadowlands of Asshai?”

Robb pondered the question for a bit, thinking back to lessons a long time ago with Maester Luwin. “An unknown place at the edges of the world. Half myth, half truth, no one really knows. Though, Stannis is rumored to have an advisor from the lands of Asshai. Goes by the name Melisandre, I believe. The rumors will have you believe she’s a witch that practices dark magic and the such”.

“That’s what we are. The people of Asshai practice crafts that cannot be explained by the rest of the world. Melisandre, though, could be considered a bit of an odd case”, Jon explained.

“What do you mean, what makes her special?” Robb questioned.

“Even people of Asshai aren’t too sure of her origins. Legend has it that she was an exiled princess of the head family from more than four hundred years old. Banned from the shadowlands for her illegal practices, she wandered the Essosi continent until she was supposedly converted by the god R'hllor himself. That’s where most of her powers come from, having to abandon the shadow arts in favor of her new lord. But the royal blood within her ensures that she’ll always have ties to the powers of Asshai.”

Robb stared for a while mouth hanging slightly open in disbelief, not knowing what to think. “Surely the legends exaggerate, just like the tales wet nurses tell children before bed. I may believe in the Old Gods, but to think a higher power actually appeared before a human is quite absurd.”

Jon smirked with mirth. “I can assure you that Melisandre is less human than goddess at this point. Being alive for more than four hundred years, one can only imagine what she’s learned or done since then. If the rumors do hold true, 3 years after her banishment, the largest catastrophe in recorded history hit the known world.”

“The doom of Valyria”, Robb muttered in realization, finally grasping the true power of the so called ‘Red Women’. “And to think Stannis holds that kind of power under his grasp, last thing we need is R’hllor himself on the battlefield. Hopefully these legends just stay at that… legends.”

“Unfortunately, the legend of R’hllor is no mere myth. I’ve met the man himself.” Jon answered as he saw Robb’s eyes widen in horror, “Unpleasant man, if I’m honest, for how bright and fiery he looked. Also had an unhealthy obsession with prostitution, which explains his preference for female priestesses, I suppose.” 

“H-how can you be so calm about all this?” Robb could hardly comprehend what he was hearing. Robb had so many questions, and, he finally looked around to see that only his mother seemed as astounded as he was. Robb turned his stare to his sisters, “In fact, how are you two so calm about this as well?”

“I’ve told them everything they need to know already. It was a long journey here, and we’ve had much time to talk. I, on the other hand, understand the meaning of all this. New players will enter the game, foreign enemies will arrive, and unknown dangers will surface; but I’ll be here to protect us all. This I promise, Robb. I’ll never leave our family again.”

Feeling some form of reassurance from Jon’s words, Robb finally relaxed back in his chair. “And you captured the Mountain and rescued Sansa and Arya using your … magical powers?” Robb asked with an awkward wave of his hands, not knowing how to truly describe Jon’s supernatural powers.

“For Sansa and Arya, I simply snuck into King’s Landing and Harrenhal respectively, no powers whatsoever, just physical abilities. Though I doubt anyone in Westeros would have such capabilities. The training in Asshai were quite to that in Westeros, or anywhere else for that matter.”

“And what about the Mountain? How did you sneak him out of the castle without raising the alarms? Last I checked, Casterly Rock didn’t have any hidden underground tunnels. I doubt you’d be able to fit that beast into any tunnel anyways.”

“Simple. He walked out the front gate all by himself and let me put him in chains.” Jon explained.

“What? Why in the seven hells would he do that?” Robb questioned.

“Certain words carry the power of persuasion and control, Robb. All I had to do was sneak into Casterly Rock and whisper them in his head. The rest he did for me.”

“What powers did you learn from Asshai” Robb asked in amazement. All that time, he’d been in awe and fear of Melisandre’s power, he didn’t even stop to think what Jon was capable of.

“In Asshai, we call it the shadow arts, but it is just a name for all the different types of crafts practiced by the people there. Shadow manipulation is the true basis behind the power of Asshai. Boys begin their physical training at the age of five, focusing on combat and reconnaissance. The elite go on to become what they call, Shinobi. Girls can take a similar route and become Kunoichi after they graduate. One must become physically skilled and adept before they truly delve into the crafts you call ‘magical’. They are then separated into categories according to their shadow affinities. 

There are people known as Enhancers; because of their physical prowess, their use shadows to enhance their physical strength and speed. 

Those extremely skilled in weaponry often become Conjurers; they use their powers to conjure any type of weapon out of shadows. The strength of their conjuration is derived from the power of their mind, therefore, the strongest conjurers can create swords stronger than even valyrian steel. 

Emitters are those with the closest connection to the shadow realm and physically control and manipulate the shadows that exist on the human plane. 

Finally, there is the lesser practiced arts of pure sorcery. One must be truly well versed in calligraphy, language, and ancient knowledge to practice sorcery. They must learn the ancient language and writings of Asshai in order to read the ancient text written by our forebears. It is said that at this moment, there are less than fifty man and women that can truly understand the ancient Asshaian language, and even less so with the capabilities to practice sorcery. Now, people in Asshai speak a language that incorporates High Valyrian and a modern Asshaian. With the dying numbers in this craft, sorcerers have become even more revered and powerful in the society of Asshai.

Only those that have fully developed their powers in one of these fields are given the title Shadow Binder.”

“And what are you then, a sorcerer?” Robb asked, now completely entranced by Jon’s story.

“No I’m something different altogether. As of now, I’m the only one in my category. Very little people from Asshai know of my existence. Only four people know of the powers that I’ve acquired. My mentor, the one you all met on the day I left, trained me to my full potential on his craft. The other three people are the teachers that taught me their individual craft.”

“You know all four?!” Robb asked incredulously.

“Yes. I am, what they call, a specialist. There has only been two naturally born Shadow Binders that had all the affinities for being a specialist. I, however, was forcefully trained in all four crafts until I perfected them. As an outsider, I didn’t follow many of the rules or conventions they had.” Jon explained. 

“Why haven’t any other people attempted the art of shadow binding? I can imagine the Lannisters would trade all of their gold mines if they could get their hands on a powerful Shadow Binder”, Robb asked out of curiosity.

“Because, a certain knowledge and training is required to learn the shadow arts. That knowledge can never leave the shadowlands of Asshai. Every Shadow Binder would protect its secrets with his life. The ruling family has strict laws about interference with the outside world. With that type of power, Shadow Binders are forbidden to reveal themselves to anyone else, for with the violence of man, wars would be apocalyptic if the shadow arts were involved.

Robb suddenly looked scared for Jon: “Then what about you, why are you allowed in and out of Asshai? Aren’t you breaking their laws?”

“Yes. But the ruling family doesn’t know about it or I would’ve been executed the moment I stepped foot in the shadowlands.” Jon explained. “Four Shadow Binders decided this time it was necessary for them to interfere with the outside world. Tell me, Robb. Have you heard of the Long Night?”

“Yes, they were stories that Old Nan used to tell us to scare us to sleep. Didn’t really work, since we just stayed up all night afraid of Ice spiders beneath our beds.” Robb answered, thinking back fondly to childhood memories.

“The army of the dead led by white walkers and a higher being named the Great Other. Why’d you think the story’s so famous that all around the world, they tell of the apocalypse eight thousand years ago?” Jon asked.

“Presumably, they’re really good at frightening children, I suppose”, Robb joked.

“History books in Asshai date back far beyond eight thousand years. They record a cycle of apocalyptic events every eight thousand years that wipe out nearly the entirety of human history.” Jon said with a serious expression.

“Jon, you can’t mean to tell me that white walkers and dead men are marching on us.” Robb stated with exasperation. “Those are just stories meant for children, and I’ve got a war to fight against half of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Robb, after all that I’ve said and done, do you truly still doubt my words? Why do you think wildlings have been spotted migrating south by the masses? To get warmer? This is no question. The long night will come again and I must be the one to stop it. This has been in the works long before I was born. Rhaegar was an educated man, and he read about all the prophecies of the long night to come. In every culture they prophesied a hero to save humanity. Azor Ahai, the prince that was promised, the great hero, they’re all one in the same person to be reborn into this world in its time of greatest need. Rhaegar did his part for the prophecy, I need to fulfil my duty as well.”

Robb sat back in silence, seemingly finally grasping the weight of the situation. “There’s still so many things I don’t understand. Why Asshai? Why do the White Walkers come? Why every eight thousand years?”

“Because of the Great Other. In the religion of the Lord of Light, he is the antithesis of R’hllor. In many other cultures, he is simply known as Death. He brings the dead and the darkness across the entire world, slaying millions in his path, leaving no place untouched. Except for Asshai.”

“Why does he leave Asshai alone?” Robb questioned.

“Because you cannot bring darkness to a place called the shadowlands. It is called that for a reason. A darkness there exists already that possibly predates even the White Walkers. Asshai is a remnant of a civilization of the first world, one before any apocalyptic destruction happen. And as the cycles began and the entire world was wiped out every eight thousand years by The Great Other, Asshai sat in witness of all the destruction and recorded history. Their ancient knowledge comes from worlds completely different from the one we know today. The knowledge of shadow binding included.”

“Why is the Great Other so hell-bent on wiping out the world?” Robb asked.

“It’s his punishment for humans. For waging countless wars against each other. For massacring each other by the millions. For staining the earth with the blood of man. In some sick twisted way, The Great Other hopes to restart the world until he reaches a perfect one where peace rules over violence. R’hllor disagrees. Perhaps that’s the only reason he let me live when I gave him an insult right to his face. My four mentors from Asshai also believe it’s time to give humanity an extended time to reach peace before they’re completely wiped out once again. That’s why I’m here, with everything I’ve learned and all the powers I have. My duty cannot be failed for the rest of humanity rests on my shoulders.” 

For the first time, Robb can truly see the weight of that responsibility on Jon. He was not the carefree child that he remembered nor the confident man that radiated power from earlier. He was just a regular person that was assigned a task larger than anyone else in history. The heroes of old saved humanity on its last breath of life, barely clinging to any form of existence. Jon has been asked to save all of humanity and to end the threat before it even begins. At that moment, Robb truly felt for Jon and the responsibilities he holds.

“So, where will you go now? North of the wall to destroy The Great Other’s army of the dead?” Robb asked with a whisper, not wanting Jon to leave on what seemed to be a suicidal mission.

Jon chuckled softly humorlessly, “Not even I have that type of power. No. We have a war to win first. My first job is to ensure this war ends as quickly and with as few casualties as possible. Not doing ourselves any good if we’re giving the enemy more dead soldiers to fight with. Then together, we march on the army of the dead and crush them once and for all. But before we get ahead of ourselves, we must deal with the Lannisters first.”

Robb smiled at Jon as he pulled out his map from his desk, “Alright, so here’s the plan.”


	4. Plans

"The war is at a stalemate at the moment." Robb said, slamming his hand on the table in frustration. "Capturing the Mountain is a huge victory, sure to boost the morale of the troops. But the Lannister still has us outnumbered more than two to one."

"We still have the Kingslayer", Catelyn reasoned, "Thanks to Jon, we now hold a powerful leverage over the Lannisters. Without Sansa, they can't do anything to threaten us. Surely Tywin will sue for peace to get his son and heir back."

"Perhaps, but Tywin's surely gone mad by this point. A wrathful lion will lash out at anyone. He's never lost a war in his life and for good reason. He always finds himself on the winning side at the end of a war. With the men we have now, we can't attack him head on. Nor can we allow him to continue to pillage the Riverlands."

"Why not attack him where he's not?" For the first time, Arya voiced her opinion as she looked up at Robb from the war map.

Robb walked around the table to stare at the pieces placed on the map, a look of realization crossed his face as he finally arrived at the solution. "I can't attack King's Landing or where they're strongest. But there is somewhere where they're not." Robb moved to grab the direwolf pieces from the map and placed them at the western coast of Westeros. "Casterly Rock. I'm going to take their home away from them."

"Can you do it?" Talisa asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Not with the Karstark men we lost. Without their men, we stand at a total of fifteen thousand strong." Robb growled in anger. "I marched south with more than twenty thousand men. And now I have barely three fourths of that. Two thousand of those are mounted knights, who won't be of any use in a siege. On top of that, I must leave more men to guard the territories that I've won. In truth, I have less than five thousand men to take Casterly Rock. It may be deserted, but it's still the castle Tywin Lannister built. One of the most impregnable fortresses next to the Eyrie. Some say due to its location on the cliffs, Casterly Rock can even rival Harrenhal before Balerion burned it to a crisp."

"How many more men do you need" Catelyn asked, thinking of the possibilities of allies left on the table.

"At least the amount of men the Karstarks marched home with… two thousand." Robb answered grimly. "I've already sent Theon to the Iron Islands to ask the Greyjoys for their forces. If Balon agrees to the alliance, we can expect their fleet to attack Casterly Rock from the sea."

"Robb… do you have the faintest clue what you've just done?" Jon finally spoke up. "You just handed Balon the only thing preventing him from stabbing you in the back."

"But Theon would never …" Robb tried to protest.

"This isn't about Theon!" Jon exclaimed. "Balon would be more likely lock Theon up to keep him safe than to join the Northern forces. Do you remember it was your father that handed Balon his most shameful defeat at his own home? In any case, I've heard news on my way here of Greyjoy forces sailing for the shores of the North. Theon has always wanted glory. Whether you can see it or not, he'll betray you the first moment he gets."

Catelyn looked towards Robb with worry in her eyes. She knew that a Greyjoy was never to be trusted. She'd advised against sending Theon away at the time, but just like on so many other issues, Robb refused to listen. "Bran… Rickon… they're still at Winterfell, we must march North, Robb. Our home and family is in danger", Catelyn pleaded with Robb to no avail.

"I can't" Robb stated, "The moment my bannermen return home to their families, they'll never want to march south again. I set out with a mission, and I won't return home until I accomplish it."

"Listen to me for once, Robb" Catelyn now begged with Robb, "All this war, vengeance will mean nothing if we lost our family and our home."

"It's not just for me." Robb proclaimed. "It's for the entire North. I promised when we marched south that the North will never kneel before a Southern King again, and I intend to honor that promise. It's what father would've done as well."

"Robb, please…" Catelyn started.

"I'll go."

All eyes in the room snapped to the owner of the voice. Jon stood as if declaring his decision was final. "I'll go North to protect Winterfell and Bran and Rickon. I promise, Robb."

After recovering from his initial surprise, Robb nodded in understanding. "I'm counting on you Jon. Ride north as soon as you can and return to me after the threat is dealt with. You're my closest friend, Jon, when I take Casterly Rock I need you by my side."

Robb grabbed Jon's forearm as a sign of a promise between brothers. Catelyn gave Jon a look of gratitude. "You've already done so much for us, Jon. Thank you."

"Winterfell is my home as well. I won't let any harm come to it or our family." Jon declared.

Arya and Sansa, however, had very different looks on their faces. They both looked up at Jon not wanting him to leave.

"You just came back to us, Jon. You can't leave so soon again. Who's going to teach me how to swing my sword?" Arya asked.

Jon smiled at Arya giving her a pat on the top of her head. "I'm not leaving forever Arya. I'll be back before you know it. And I think your mother has someone that can spar with you." Jon said as he remembered the female warrior that towered over the Lady of Winterfell as she shadowed Catelyn around as her guard.

Sansa, on the other hand, developed a determined look on her face. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Jon. "I'm not letting you leave me again. You promised you'd always be by my side when you found me in King's Landing." Sansa whispered in a soft voice that hid her conviction.

Jon sighed in defeat. "I knew you were going to say that. I could never say no to you." Jon said as he turned to Robb once again, "Sansa will come with me to the North. I have things to teach her, and Bran and Rickon will need someone at Winterfell.

Robb and Catelyn looked to Sansa as if asking if she was sure with her decision. Sansa responded with a resolute nod.

"That's not fair", Arya protested with a childish pout on her face. "Why does Sansa get to go with Jon and I have to stay here."

Sansa stuck her tongue out at Arya. "Maybe because Jon likes me better", Sansa responded from within Jon's embrace. Catelyn looked towards her daughters with a happy smile, their sisterly banter reminiscent of the childhood they lost when they left Winterfell. It was nice to see some happiness back in their attitudes.

Robb, on the other hand, sweatdropped at his sisters' behavior. Is it really so bad to be staying with me. They almost make it sound like it's a punishment. "Anyways, everyone should go get some rest, it's late and Jon and Sansa ride first thing in the morning."

"I'll have chambers prepared for you three," Talisa said, already taking on the duties of a Queen. "And I assume you'd want a hot bath to wash yourselves after your long travels."

"Yes, that would be great. Thank you, my queen." Sansa said, giving Talisa a slight curtsey.

"Yea, and I'll see you tomorrow morning, Robb." Arya gave him a wave as they walked out the room.

Robb hung his head in defeat once again. "Even my wife gets more respect than I do." Robb said in jest. "Jon, I have some more things to go over with you."

Talisa gave Robb a small smile at his childish actions. "You know they love you. I'll wait in our chambers. You should finish up and head to bed soon as well. A King still needs his rest, you should know that by now, Robb" Talisa scolded Robb as she left the room quietly, understanding his wish for privacy for whatever he needs to discuss with Jon.

"Women are scary aren't they?" Robb asked as he looked towards Jon. They both let out a low chuckle after a while, savoring the small moment of peace and quiet that was so rare nowadays amidst all the war and chaos. "You don't have to tell me" Jon said, "I've only been back for less than two fortnights and Sansa already has me wrapped around her finger."

"Speaking of that, when did you get so close to Sansa?" Robb asked, letting some of his protective older brother seep through.

Jon suddenly started to sweat a bit in nervousness as he tried to evade the question: "What do you mean? We've always been close, you, Sansa, Arya and I."

"Don't lie to me. You've never been that close. You never looked at me the way you look at Sansa now." Robb joked.

Jon grimaced at the accusation. Was I really that obvious? "I'm not sure about all the details of Sansa's stay at King's Landing, but from the bits she's told me and the things that I've seen, it's the worst hell she could've been put in as a child of only one and ten. She was beat publicly in court and Joffrey's a cruel little shit. I saved Sansa in the middle of a revolt started by the people. The caravan was on their way back to the Red Keep from sending Myrcella off when the common folk rebelled. Next thing you know, chaos ensued and everyone was separated. When I found Sansa, she was cornered by three men in some alleyway. I could barely contain my rage at the time. After that I went on to find Arya and capture the Mountain."

Robb's voice trembled. "It's my fault. I should've done something to save her. For all the things she's been through no wonder she seems so broken."

"You're wrong." Jon said. "Sansa may be hurt and scarred, but she's not broken. She's stronger than she looks. To be able to go through what she did and still have the courage to survive, she's a Stark at heart. I've actually started teaching her my crafts in the shadow arts."

"You WHAT?" Robb exclaimed.

"Sansa's a smart girl, she picks things up quickly if someone takes the time to teach her." Jon explained calmly. "She's already naturally talented in writing and reading. If everything works out, she'll be my protege sorcerer."

"I know I've said this already, but thank you for taking care of them. I don't know what I would've done without you." Robb said.

Jon nodded in understanding. "What will you do now? You still don't have enough men to storm Casterly Rock. Tywin won't sit around for much longer."

"There's only one option left, one house that has yet to declare their allegiance to any side in the war. The man whose daughter I was supposed to marry, Walder Frey." Robb said with grimace. "All we can hope is that Stannis and the Lannisters' conflict at King's Landing keeps their attention off of us for the moment. For some reason, Stannis has decided to delay his attack on King's Landing and decided to lay siege to the city. His forces currently surround King's Landing but actually taking the city is another issue altogether."

"Beware of Walder Frey" Jon warned, "Some men can never be trusted. News of the Mountain's capture has surely spread by now. Tywin won't stand having his house humiliated for long. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come brother. There are other forces from Essos that will enter the game in the future. But for now we're on our own."

(Scene Change)--------------------------

"Khaleesi! We should march to Astapor next. The gold we just plundered from Qarth should be plenty to buy us a sizable army of Unsullied warriors." Jorah advised.

Daenerys and her advisors were gathered in the council room of the Thirteen of Qarth to plan her next move. The armies of Qarth had foolishly met the Dothraki out on the field and now they suffered the consequences. The Thirteen were replaced and all their riches were plundered. Daenerys, though, had made sure that the city and its people were left untouched. If there was one thing that Daenerys restrained the Dothraki from, it was the harming of the common folk. Jorah Mormont and Barristan Selmy sat loyally beside her around the table. The room was guarded by the best of the Dothraki Bloodriders. At the head of the table sat Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen and next to her sat her husband, the great Khal Drogo.

"No. We'll use the gold to buy as much grain and weapons as we can. We must begin our journey to Westeros; we'll take the Spice King's merchant ships and sail in a fortnight. He was known for his trading fleet afterall. Jon saved all of us in our greatest time of need. He'll need us in Westeros to win the War of the Five Kings."

Daenerys looked to her side at her husband Khal Drogo and he nodded in agreement. Since she first started teaching him the common tongue, he's improved to the point where he can reasonably understand everything being said. When the maegi Mirri Maz Duur had poisoned him through blood magic, it was the strange rider in the black cloak that had saved his life. In a display of sorcery, he basically brought Drogo back from the dead and restrained all of his rivals Khals who thought to take advantage of his Khalassar's misfortune and conquer his people. Many of his own riders left due to their refusal to follow a foreign Khaleesi who they thought was a witch herself. The Dothraki were a simple people who conquer and pillage; any form of supernatural powers were avoided like the plague. Drogo though, stayed loyal to his Khaleesi and his strange savior. Even though a huge portion of his riders had left, he could still boast an impressive Khalasar of five thousand riders. His son, the Stallion that would Mount the World, was killed by the evil witch. Now, all he wanted, was for the Moon of his life to return to her home. If that meant becoming the first Khal to lead his Khalasar across the salty waters on wooden horses, than that's what he would do.

And so within a fortnight, Daenerys and her fleet of Dothraki set sail for Westeros.

(Scene Change)--------------------------

Tywin growled and swiped his goblet of wine off the table in an uncharacteristic display of rage. His advisors sat around the war table afraid what he might do next. Tywin is a lord of a few words and emotions. When he spoke, he gave orders with a sense of finality. When he was angry, he gave subtle threats that promised retribution. So to see such a display of anger, his advisors were stunned to silence until one brave general decided to voice his opinion.

"We should attack when the enemy least expects it, milord. We can steal a night's march on them and we'll be upon Riverrun in no time. The young wolf won't know what hit him."

That stirred up the other advisors' murmur until another general decided to speak up. This time, a distant Lannister from a branch family.

"No, the King and Queen Regent are of the most importance. We must eliminate the threat of Stannis and the Stormlands' army and protect King's Landing." That got a couple of nods and agreements from the room, until they started muttering amongst themselves again.

Having had enough of the useless chatter among his men, Tywin stood up, finally letting his rage boil over.

"THEY HAVE MY SON!"

Tywin's booming voice was so sudden and forceful as if a dagger was plunged into the chests of the men listening. His sudden volume in contrast to his relative silence leading up to it commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

"Get out, all of you." The short command was obeyed immediately as the Lannister generals started shuffling out of the room.

"Not you," Tywin motioned Tyrion towards a seat opposite the table.

"You were right. About Eddard Stark, about the Northern armies, about the Baratheons. What do you think I should do now?" Tywin asked, showing a surprising amount of trust in his deformed son.

"To continue to support Joffrey on the throne… I don't know how long we'll stay in power like that." Tyrion stated hesitantly. "All of Westeros already believes he's a bastard of incest, and the freefolk have seen his true colors. Soon everyone will oppose him and the Lannisters in relation."

"What are you suggesting?" Tywin asked seemingly laid back in his chair. However, his eyes displayed his interest at what Tyrion was saying.

"What I mean is, the Lannisters don't have to be the ones on the throne to control Westeros. You were Hand of the King to the Mad King for twenty years, and the entire Seven Kingdoms knew who was truly in power. Remove Joffrey from the throne and crown someone else King."

"Who? It's like you said, the Lannisters have less supporters by the day. The Dornish would rather have my head on a spike, and don't even start with the Tyrells. A fool and a rumored pillow-biter. No one fit to be king. The Vale are likely to stay holed up in the Eyrie for the entirety of this entire war."

"Why don't we give Stannis what he wants?" Tyrion suggests.

Tywin seems to consider this for a moment.

"Strategically speaking, an alliance with him would be most beneficial. It would bring a large army to our side. After Renly was rumored to be murdered by dark magic, most of the Stormlands army flocked to Stannis' side and he now holds more than fifty thousand soldiers, infantry and cavalry combined not to mention his own host from Dragonstone. Allying with Stannis would definitely drive the Tyrells away, but we rid ourselves of one of our largest threats and bring him to our side." Tyrion explained.

"Stannis is not the Mad King. He is a man of duty, honor-bound by laws and his own stubbornness. He'll be no figurehead, or puppet King. We'll have no control over Stannis." Tywin stated, ready to dismiss the thought.

"I've never known you to let something like that get in your way. Stannis will do his duty ruling the Seven Kingdoms. We don't need control of him. We just need the influence of the Small Council Chambers. Stannis knows he can't hope to rule the Seven Kingdoms without backing from another Great House. Who better to back him than the Lannisters with their infinite supply of gold?" Tyrion interjected.

Tywin allowed a small smile to adorn his face for the first time since all of this mess had begun. "Send a raven to Stannis with all the details of our alliance. I expect to meet with him in front of the gates of King's Landing within a fortnight. Tell the soldiers to prepare for movement. We march at dawn."


	5. The Red Woman

Dawn broke early and cold that morning. The sun rose quickly over the trident, sunlight reflecting off the waters and onto Riverrun. Even with the sun, the small group started to feel the chilling bite of winter’s winds as their breath mingled with the horse’s and formed clouds in the air. Jon could only imagine what winterfell would be like, with snow surely blanketing the castle in white by now. 

“Alright Arya, I need to go now.” Jon said as he released Arya from his embrace and put her back on her feet. “Remember what I said…”

“Stick ‘em with the pointy end, I know.” Arya drawled, but her voice became quieter as she turned serious, “There’s still so much you have to teach me, you only gave me Needle since you came back.”

“You’re a quick learner, Arya. I’ve spoken with Robb, he promised to let Brienne teach you now.”

“The big woman?” Arya asked with doubt.

“Yes, the big woman.” Jon answered with mirth. “She’s as good a swordsman in Robb’s army as anyone.” He took a glance at the soldiers stationed around Riverrun, barely awake out of their tents. All green boys, thought Jon, half of them will be dead by the end of this war, half of them will return home men grown. 

“Protect her, Jon.” Arya whispered as she looked towards Sansa who was still in the embrace of her mother. “She may be Sansa, but she’s still a Stark. She’s my sister, keep her safe, Jon.”

“Always” Jon promised. He gave Arya one last pat on the head and headed off to his horse who stood obediently next to the other rowdy horses without a collar or rope. Jon gave a whistle and the horse trotted towards Jon, matching his footspeed as they approached Sansa and Catelyn.

“It’s time to go Sansa,” Jon urged, “We must head North before it’s too late.”

Sansa gave her mother one final squeeze before she let go and walked towards Jon who was already on his horse. In one fell swoop, Jon picked Sansa up and placed her behind him in the saddle.

“You sure you don’t want to take another horse, Jon?” Robb asked skeptically, “Winterfell is a long ride for any horse let alone with two passengers.”

Jon smiled proudly, as a parent would praising their child. “Asshaian horses are different, Robb. They’re said to be faster than the wind, and stronger than four dothraki horses combined. They’re no ordinary horses, and this one right here is one the best.” 

Jon gave the horse a small nudge with his toe and true to his word, the horse galloped smoothly out the gates of Riverrun. Faster than the eye can blind, Jon and Sansa were riding off into the distance.

Robb gave a small laugh in disbelief. The cavalry we could have with horses like that, Robb entertained his imagination, we’d have Tywin shitting bricks instead. “What’s her name?” Robb shouted in curiosity, hoping the wind would carry his words far enough.” Jon’s keen ears picked up Robb’s voice and sent a whisper back that echoed through the winds.

“Nissa nissa.” 

(Scene change)

“What should we do your grace?” Grandmaster Pycelle asked in a grovelling voice. He was certainly a man of age, but the hunch of his back and his old voice suggested that he was as old as the dirt beneath their feet. A fragile, harmless old man living out the end of his days. He’d truly have you think that if you didn’t know of the whores that warm his bed every night. He’d have the whole seven kingdoms fooled, everyone but the ones he actually wanted to fool. 

Varys was one such person as he gave a subtle snort at Pycelle’s behavior. Putting on a sly smile, Varys turned towards the king, “Should we charge out the gates and bring Stannis’s head, or would you like to lead the charge like you proudly proclaimed.” 

All of Joffrey’s prior bravado vanished as he now stood above the ramparts of King’s Landing staring down at Stannis’ army, who’ve by now set up camp surrounding the city. From so high up, the tents appeared to be dots on the ground as imperceptible figures roamed around their camp. And yet these dots completely occupied the surroundings of King’s Landing, covering the ground from the walls to the nearby hillsides in Baratheon yellow. The Baratheon camp was a sight to behold, Stannis’s entire host of Stormlanders more than fifty thousand strong stationed outside the gates. Joffrey’s legs shook in fear, both from the height and realization at their utter doom.

Having had enough of the taunts from the Small Council members, Cersei began to plan her next step. “Take the King to his chambers, Pycelle.” Cersei ordered, “He’s tired from his duties for the day.”

Both Pycelle and Joffrey obeyed wordlessly as he was still scared to a silence, as he’s never seen a real army before. Cersei turned to the man who’s remained silent up to this point. The quiet ones are always the most devious ones. “What do you think we should do, Baelish?”

“Attacking Stannis is definitely not an option. He outnumbers the city guards and Lannister troops within King’s landing more than ten to one. It’ll be over before we know what hit us. We still hold the castle, the best thing we can do is wait.” Baelish suggested. He was Master of Coin for a reason. His smarts laid with money and politics, not with war. That was for brutal savages like Robert and Tywin. 

“My little birds told me your father was last seen leading his host towards King’s Landing. Perhaps he wishes to save the city this time around.” Varys said with a completely neutral tone, still hiding his bitter resentment at Tywin’s betrayal and sack of King’s Landing.

“He’s our only hope now, we just have to wait Stannis out.” Cersei sighed resignedly. “Only if the little monster was here right now, his dirty little tricks would actually come in handy.”

“It does raise concern over why Stannis hasn’t chosen to lay siege yet.” Varys states with a frown, “Surely he knows he doesn’t have forever with Tywin marching towards King’s Landing.”

Cersei looked down towards the Baratheon camp. What in the Seven hells is Stannis planning?

(Scene Change)

(Slight Lemon scene)

Moans filled the tent as the pair of lovers filled the air with a fog from the heat of their passion and lust. The tent flaps hid them from the outside world, preventing any sight or sound from leaving the secret escapade. A small burning candle was the only light illuminating the dark tent, but even so the young man had no doubt about the beauty of the woman on top of him. 

He had left home a green boy. Grew up in Storm’s end, son of the captain of the guards for Lord Renly. He had never followed any of the maids or serving girls back to their beds in fear of following in his father’s mistake. He had been born a bastard and was name Orys to honor the great bastard who started House Baratheon. But the name Storm would always stay with him, and he didn’t want any child of his to suffer the same fate.

But now staring at the women on top of him, he understood why he never had a dalliance with the common girls. There would be no women as perfect as the one in front of him right now. Her face radiated exotic beauty. Even as she closed her eyes to ride out the pleasure, Orys felt as if he was staring into her soul. He let his eyes drop down below her shoulders and onto her chest. Her teats were round and yet pointy at the same time. They hung out the front of her robe and swung slightly back and forth as she rode him. Orys caressed her sides all the way down her beautiful pale legs that straddled him, legs that belonged to a princess that’s never seen a day of sun. 

Orys began to feel a tension in his lower stomach and he started to pump up uncontrollably. Although only her teats and legs were exposed, Orys knew this to be the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. With how good his prick feels inside of her, he could only imagine how beautiful she was between her legs. The warmth inside of her made Orys want to stay that way forever, pumping into her. The tension soon grew almost unbearable as he gripped her red robes and started pumping erratically, searching for that sweet release. Just as he was about to burst within her, he felt a gurgle within his own neck as he struggled to breath. He looked up to see the hungry eyes of the women staring into his soul, still riding hard, but now finding pleasure at something else. Orys looked to the side, and for the first time, noticed the dagger within the women’s hands. The blood on the blade dripped onto the floor where a pool of red slowly stained the carpets.

(Lemon End)

Orys died painlessly, his mind still drunk off the pleasures of fucking. 

The women on top of him, however, was unfazed. She muttered an short phrase and a dark smoke emerged from the man’s mouth as all life seemed to leave his body, leaving a cold limp doll. The woman inhaled the substance and immediately felt the effects. Her eyes sparked and began to shine a brighter color. The slight unnoticeable wrinkles around her eyes smoothed out and vanished. Her hair grew a little fuller and lusher. Her entire body felt on fire now, as if she had been reborn in the fire.

The tent flap suddenly flung open, revealing Stannis alone, with a look of annoyance upon his face. Noticing the bloody scene in front of him, he continued into the room and sat down without a flinch. “If you keep sacrificing my men, sooner or later, people will start questioning how I’m losing men without even fighting, Melisandre.”

Melisandre slowly recovered from her labored breaths. She stood up and slowly got dressed. “I must regain my power, my king. Killing Renly was no easy task. Of course, this will all be easier if you allow me to serve you once more, my king.” Melisandre whispered seductively as she crept towards Stannis with her robe undone.

Stannis, for the honorable man her was, couldn’t help as his eyes darted towards her magnificent teats as her nipples hardened from arousal. But this time, his honor held strong. Stannis turned his back towards Melisandre, walking towards the exit of the tent. “I’ve dishonored my wife once, I will not dishonor her again.” Stannis stated resolutely.

Before Stannis exited the tent, he said over his shoulder, “There was a raven from Tywin Lannister. The lions seek an alliance just like you said they would.”

Melisandre grinned mischievously, “When have I ever been wrong, my king?”

Stannis nodded in acceptance, “If all goes according to your plan, we march in a fortnight. You have until then to regain your power.”

Melisandre dropped into a bow foreign to the lands of Westeros. “Yes, your grace.”


	6. Alliance

The tension within the tent grew to an uncomfortable degree. Two stern men sat across from each other, each refusing to break first. Stannis sat in his battle armor, sword strapped to his side, ready to fight at any moment’s notice. That’s the way he’s lived his entire life. None of that pompous gold robe that the cunt sitting on the Iron Throne now wears. Stannis is a warrior, and his cold steely gaze bore into the eyes of the man sat across from him.

Tywin was no less intimidating. Even at his old age, he still towered above the rest of the room in his seat with his impressive height and broad frame. Gold lions adorned the shoulder plates of his crimson armor, showing every bit the Lannister he truly was. A large red sash ran from his left shoulder to right hip and flew behind him like a cape, making him seem even larger than life. This was the man who’s never lost a war in his life. His gaze, that of a seasoned lion on the prowl, stared back at Stannis unflinchingly.

Behind each of them sat their advisors. Melisandre stood behind Stannis’ left shoulder, while Davos Seaworth stood behind his right. An impressive sight to behold, if not a bit strange. Tywin glanced disinterestedly at the man and woman behind Stannis. A foreign priestess and a former smuggler, strange company Stannis seems to enjoy.

Behind Tywin, Tyrion cleared his throat, the first to break the silence. “I suppose you received the letter, Lord Stannis.” Tyrion began, “I do believe an alliance at this point in time would be in both of our best interest.

Stannis’ trusted hand stepped forward slightly in response. “Forgive me Lord Tyrion. I’m not a learned man, I know, but Stannis is King of the Seven Kingdoms, he’s not a lord. The Iron Throne is his by right.” Davos said in an unmistakable Flea Bottom accent. 

“My apologies, your grace. You must excuse me, I’ve never been one for courtesies and manners. I do admit, that’s one area where my sister surpasses me.” Tyrion said, “However, I do believe another currently sits on the Iron Throne who the Seven Kingdoms have proclaimed King.”

“Joffrey is a bastard, born from incest.” Stannis said, for the first time in this meeting. He met Tywin’s eyes and only saw rage and indignation.

Tyrion, instead, accepted the statement. “And yet, there he still sits, on the Iron Throne ruling over your Seven Kingdoms. You need our help.” Tyrion paused, “I do hope you consider. You’ll not receive a better offer.”

“I need your help? Did you see the fifty thousand men and horses on your way in?” Stannis snarled.

“They’re certainly hard to miss.” Tyrion refused to be intimidated by Stannis.

“There’s nothing stopping me between my army and King’s Landing. How many soldiers do they have inside King’s Landing, a thousand, less than that? Your own host will not arrive in time to stop me. You must’ve been, what, three days ride ahead of your army? I can taking King’s Landing before sun sets. Even if your host arrives, I still outnumber you. And you think I need you?”

Tywin, at this point, has had enough of Stannis’ arrogance. “Make no mistake, Stannis. My army has been fighting in a war. They’re battle tested and experienced. What has Renly been doing with his men if not sleeping with them? Tourneys? Your men have been playing at war. Each Lannister soldier fights with the strength of three green Stormlanders.”

“You’ve been at war? I’m sure the farm boys and village women put up a great fight. Your only victory was pillaging the Riverlands.” Stannis retorted.

“Then what about the Tyrells?” Tywin asked, sensing Stannis’ weak point, “They’ve yet to declare for a king. You think they’d ally with you after you killed their precious Renly? They might just be a host of green boys, but forty thousand dainty roses will still prick you to death.”

Before Tywin’s threat can sink in, Tyrion interrupted to save the situation. “If you could take King’s Landing so easily, why haven’t you? The only reason I can see is you don’t want to kill half a million of innocent people. It’s the fastest way to win the war, but it’s also the quickest way to lose the throne. The people in King’s Landing may be common folk, but they’ll outnumber every army in the Seven Kingdoms combined. You’ll get torn apart by the people before you step foot in the Red Keep.”

Stannis contemplated Tyrion’s words and let out a low grunt, in agreement. If the Tyrells truly ally with the Lannisters, he won’t be King for long. Not even the best commander in the Seven Kingdoms can hold off more than eighty thousand men with only about half as much. At least, not without dragons. 

Tyrion glanced towards his father before finally continuing. “The best course of action now would be to join forces and rule the seven Kingdoms. Joffrey will step down from the throne and in return, you’ll help us defeat our enemies. All of them. When we get my brother Jaime back, we stay in the West as wardens, and you’ll rule from King’s Landing.”

Stannis contemplated his words for a moment and stood up from his seat, causing Tyrion to look up to him. “We march into the gates on the morrow. I expect to sit on the throne by then.” Stannis turned around and walked swiftly out of the tent with his party following him.

“Well he’s certainly a charmer.” Tyrion let out with a small chuckle breathing out a sigh of relief. That was as good of a reaction out of Stannis as anyone could’ve gotten. 

Tywin, likewise, relaxed into his seat slightly. He knew how much of a risk this was, riding into Stannis’ camp with a small party. He knew Stannis is an honorable man, but war turns man into savages. “What’d you expect? He is quite different from his brothers, both of them.” Tywin said, and allowed the first comfortable moment of silence to fall between them. 

“When this is all said and done, when this war is won, my role in this world will be over. Jaime will live his foolish dream of serving as a glorified bodyguard. And you…” Tywin paused as he placed a hand on Tyrion’s shoulder, “You will stay in King’s Landing and act in my stead. If anyone wishes to step out of line, including Stannis, show them why lions are king. You have a sharp mind, and you’ll do well in King’s Landing.”

Tyrion’s eyes showed a hint of surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had offered him praise, if he’d ever done so. “What about you, you’re still … young. I’m sure you still have a couple years left in you.”

“Hah!” Tywin let out a true laugh at that. “The gods know I’m getting old, and before long, I’ll just be a part of the past. The only thing that’ll live on is my legacy. My family name, my house, and my children. Yes, even you. You’ll continue and protect this legacy, do you understand?”

Tyrion gave a single nod, sensing the seriousness of the situation here. It wasn’t everyday Tywin discussed topics like this, with him especially.

“I’ve done my part in the world. I’ve brought House Lannister up from near ruin. You should’ve seen your grandfather back in the day. The “laughing lion” his bannerman called to his face, and “Tytos the fool” they insulted behind his back. That idiot was no better than Mace Tyrell is now. Both just fat and soft men, unfit to rule. Before long, he’d lost all his power and gold to his bannerman. I reminded them who the Lions of Casterly Rock truly were. Now we sit at the top of the Seven Kingdoms. That, is my legacy. If enemies rise up to challenge our place in the world, you’ll remind them why the rains weep o’er his halls.”

Tywin stood up, deciding he’s had enough of the day. “Night is approaching, we ride back to our camp. Stannis may have offered us guest right, but I know better than to trust his men. We’ll lead our forces into King’s Landing on the morrow and remove Joffrey from the throne. The sooner this business is done the sooner I can return to your mother in Casterly Rock. Joanna will certainly be angry at how long I’ve been away. They fury of a kind soul is nothing to be scoffed at. You should return to see her as well. It’s been years since you left Casterly Rock and she surely misses you, perhaps the most out of all of us. With the way Cersei and Jaime have been, you may be our best child.”

“Mother loves all of us. Even if Cersei goes against the family.” Tyrion interjects, “She will not give up the throne without putting up a fight, especially to another Baratheon. Cersei will claw your eyes out before she lets you drag her out of the Red Keep. Mother lions are fiercely protective of her cubs afterall.”

Tywin thought of his own wife and how protective she was of their children. He couldn’t help but see the same protectiveness in Cersei, but to a mad degree. Tywin loves his wife. Ever since they were young, Tywin couldn’t remember ever seeing a more beautiful woman. She took his breath away everytime he laid eyes on her. Even to this day, sometimes he would look at her, and he couldn’t believe she’s real. Tywin did everything to protect Joanna and the love they held for each other. Even from the Mad King. When Tywin saw the looks Aerys shot towards his lovely Joanna, he knew it was time to retreat from court. Ever since, Tywin’s been fiercely protective of his mate the same way she was of their children. And everytime he saw Cersei, he saw a young Joanna within her and felt the urge to protect her from the world. But Tywin knew he had to steel his resolve despite his love for his daughter. He must put the good of his entire family before the wishes of an individual. To the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, he was still the brutal lion of Casterly Rock.

In a deep but clear voice, Tywin said, “I’ll let myself be consumed by maggots before I let her and that stupid boy of hers destroy everything I’ve built. If Cersei resists to step down from power, she’ll find herself confined to a chamber in Casterly Rock for the rest of her days.”

Tyrion nodded in understanding. He slowly walked out the tent and towards their small group of Lannister guards. Tywin slowly followed behind, looking at Tyrion with a concealed fond smile. You were right about him, Joanna. He’d make a great Lord of Casterly Rock one day.

(Scene Change)

On the other side of the Baratheon camp, Stannis now gathered in his personal tent with his advisors after the meeting with Tywin Lannister.

“Well that went better than expected.” Davos said, as Stannis, now seated at the head of his table, motioned for his two companions to take a seat as well. “Never expected a man like Tywin Lannister to give up the throne that easily.”

“A desperate man in a desperate situation.” Stannis answered, “But Tywin has other plans. Surely, one way or another, he’ll dig his claws into the Lords at court. The king will be surrounded by lions once again.”

“They say you keep a friend close and an enemy closer. Perhaps this makes keeping an eye on the Lannisters that much easier.” Davos suggested.

“Whoever said that, didn’t have many enemies. If you think the Lannisters will be deterred from betraying me at the quickest notice, you’re a bigger fool than my brother Ser Davos.” Stannis answered, “With the Lannisters now on our side, we must keep our eyes open at all times. Not only do we have to watch our enemies, but now we must also watch our allies. They may help us take the Iron Throne, but they’ll make ruling much more difficult.” 

Stannis looked towards the Red Woman, seeking her opinion. “I’ve shown you the visions in the flame prior to this, my king. There won’t be much of a city remaining if we attempt to siege the city ourselves. But now with the Lannisters by our sides, I can only see you sitting on the throne, your grace.”

Stannis flinched as he remembered the visions of a city burnt to a crisp. Houses lay in waste, corpses burnt to a blackened char, and the Red Keep surrounded by thick black smoke, at least what was left of the castle. Whatever caused that destruction put the fear of god into Stannis. It was the only reason he hadn’t dared step foot in King’s Landing. Seeing Melisandre’s displays of magic countless times, Stannis knew there were powers at play in this game that go far beyond the laws of men. And whatever force that can lay waste to a city worse than Balerion the Dread did to Harrenhal was a cause for great concern.

“Anything else? What in the Seven Hells could’ve caused something like that?” Davos asked. After he’d seen Melisandre’s magic himself, he knew better than to scoff at her visions. Even though he was against using blood magic to win the throne, he knew thousands of lives were at stake here.

“I can only see what the Lord of Light shows me. He’s a bit of a cunt in that way, only revealing what he thinks is interesting enough.” Melisandre answered, as the fire on the candles in the tent flared to a large flame, almost singeing the top of the tent. R'hllor didn’t take well to that insult. Before anyone can blink, the fire was gone, causing Stannis’ eyes to widen and Davos to shiver. Melisandre only scoffed at the childish behavior.

“It’ll be first order of business when I sit on the throne.” Stannis said when he finally recovered and turned towards Davos, “We need to discover the secrets King’s Landing holds.”

(Scene Change)

A knock was heard on the doors of her chambers as Cersei set down her goblet of wine.

Her guard announced the presence of her visitor, “Lord Petyr Baelish, your grace.”

Cersei cleared her throat and sent him in. Clear clacks of footsteps sounded against the marble floors of the hallway as Littlefinger appeared through the door to her chambers.

“You requested my presence, your grace? A meeting at this hour will start rumors in court.” Petyr said with a sly smile, “Unpleasant rumors.” 

Cersei ignored the jab and pointed to the seat opposite of her instead. “Sit down, this concerns your king and the Seven Kingdoms.” Cersei has always been surprised at how Littlefinger’s accent made him sound even more devious than the words he actually spoke. If Cersei didn’t know the unique accent that hailed from a land aptly named “The Fingers,” she’d have thought that Petyr spoke with the voice of the devil himself.

Petyr made a show of looking around the chamber. “I wasn’t aware this was a small council meeting. Where’s Varys, or Pycelle?”

“Elsewhere. Those two snakes can’t be trusted when it matters.” Cersei answered.

“Ahh… Slanderous statements from the Queen, one might accuse. What could possibly cause one to doubt loyal servants to the crown, your grace?” Petyr asked sarcastically.

Cersei let out a small snort of amusement. “You should know better than anyone else of allegiances Lord Baelish. At the very least, you make it clear who you serve, at least to those who look beneath the surface. Your loyalties lie with nobody except yourself. You think that makes you dangerous, but it only makes you all the more predictable. But that’s no slight against you. For someone of your birth to rise so high in the world, that’s something I can respect. As well as your ambition. The others, on the other hand... 

“Varys claims to serve the people of the common folk, but we all know that’s a lie. Only the gods know whom he truly serves. And Pycelle, that old sack ‘o cunt. He’s loyal only to my father. Not me, or the Lannisters, or the crown. He’ll sell everyone out the first chance he gets to please my father. No one seems to have an idea of why in the Seven Hells he’s so loyal to my father.”

Cersei, however, noticed a smug look on Littlefinger’s face which he thought he hid. “Except for you it seems, do tell.” Cersei said, as she laid back in her seat with her goblet of wine in hand.

“Old rumors I assure you, your grace. Only the imaginations of storytellers.” Petyr answered. But upon seeing Cersei’s unconvinced look, he decided to continued.

“Legend has it, our Grand Maester Pycelle was quite the oath breaker, even back in the day. Bedded not only whores, but highborns as well. Before long, word got around court that Pycelle here was quite the young stallion. After one drunken night, he found himself in bed with a woman he wasn’t supposed to touch. Perhaps it was because of one of the harsher beatings from the Mad King, but Queen Rhaella found herself in the comfort of Pycelle’s company that night. And for much more than health purposes. The pair were discovered by guards the next morning, and unfortunately for them, it was one of the few that was still loyal to the king. Before he could run off and expose the lovers, his throat was slit from behind from none other than Tywin Lannister. He had pitied the Queen, for at this point, his friendship with Aerys had already deteriorated into hatred. Aerys had tried to force Joanna into his own bed, but Tywin quickly saw an end to that. Seeing the Queen caught in this dire situation, he decided to help her. Pycelle was just the lucky fool caught in the middle. After that incident, he’s sworn his life to Tywin Lannister and has served him since.”

“How does a brothel keeper like you catch the hint of whispers so far away?” Cersei asked, intrigued at how Littlefinger knew secrets not even Varys, the Master of Whisperers can even dream of.”

Petyr let out a small humorless chuckle. “You should know by now, that I’m much more than a brothel keeper, your grace. And neither are the girls in my establishment just whores. Knowledge is power.” Littlefinger said, “You’ll be surprised at the whispers and rumors that men let slip to beautiful women when they’re drunk off arbor wine and sinful pleasures. Men of high stature in court, men that hold important secrets. Gold isn’t the only price at my establishment. Information is what I seek… Knowledge is power.”

Cersei had always scoffed at that notion. Her father showed her the merits of true power being power. Forcing bannerman and other houses to obey through the sheer will of his command and influence. But perhaps, seeing the extent of Littlefinger’s own knowledge, it was time for her to rethink. “And what secrets would you let slip to a woman like me?” Cersei asked, with a hint of seduction.

“What does your grace wish to hear?” Petyr asked in response, deciding to partake in the queen’s game.

“Everything.” Cersei answered without hesitation.

Petyr nodded, already having guessed Cersei’s intentions. “If your grace has the time, I’ll reveal every secret I have. But perhaps, there’s more urgent matters at the moment, regarding the actual reasons for this meeting.”

Cersei nodded in agreement. Her curiosity will have to wait for another time. They still had a war to win, and the outcome can decide the fate of the Seven Kingdoms. “I wish to know what everyone’s planning? Why Stannis awaits outside King’s Landing, what my father intends to do…”

Petyr’s eyebrow raised in surprise at that. “Does your grace not trust her own father?” He asked.

“I trust he’ll always do what’s best for the family, but that doesn’t mean what’s best for me or my children. He’s never been on a losing side in a war, and yet the odds are hopelessly against us in this one. There’s no idea to what he’ll do next.” Cersei answered.

“Your father’s a clever man.” Littlefinger started, “I met with him a fortnight ago in Harrenhal after the death of Renly Baratheon.” Petyr thought back to his meeting with Tywin and the little cupbearer he’d had in his service. Perhaps it’s best not to mention that tiny detail to Cersei. “I had proposed an alliance with the Tyrells of Highgarden. They’re the second wealthiest house behind the Lannisters with their fertile lands, feeding soldiers and horses. They command the largest host behind the Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks. And Robb Stark has yet to march half of his army south of the Neck. The Tyrells are the only house yet to declare for a king. But your father seemed opposed to the alliance. The last my sources have heard, Lord Tywin was seen riding into Stannis’ camp. Seems he found a new alliance to make.”

Cersei cursed silently in her head. She couldn’t say she was surprised by her father’s actions. Littlefinger’s words only proved her suspicions. Allying with Stannis most definitely meant her and her son being removed from the throne. “And what of Stannis, what does he plan to do?”

“Your grace, surely you’ve heard of the peculiar advisors Stannis keeps. Word from his camp has it a foreign witch has shown him visions of the future. Of the destruction of King’s Landing if he attacks the city with force.” Littlefinger responded. “Almost no one knows the meaning of those visions. Whispers say the legacy of Aerys II Targaryen remains buried beneath the entire city, waiting to swallow the entire city in dragon flame.”

Cersei’s curiosity was once again peaked with the prospect of such destruction, “And the truth behind such ‘whispers’?” Cersei asked.

Petyr developed a sly grin that revealed his true intentions. “All truth. I’ve investigated the rumors into the crypts beneath the Red Keep. They connected to a system of tunnels that span the entire underground of the city. Perhaps, its original use was an underground bunker against dragon fire during the Dance of Dragons. You could how a civil war between dragon riders must’ve frightened the common folk. But now these tunnels are filled to its brim with barrels, numbering in the thousands below the Red Keep alone.”

“What did the Mad King hide in those barrels?”

“The pyromancers call it wildfire. A green substance that burns hotter than oil. Once on fire, it is inextinguishable until the substance and the object itself burns away. A highly violent substance, that’s for certain. One dropped torch, and King’s Landing is wiped off the face of the map.” Littlefinger stated ominously.

Fear finally replaced curiosity within Cersei as she realized what she and her family were sitting atop this entire time. “Who else knows of this?”

“Just me, the pyromancer, and Pycelle. The old fool stumbled across the tunnels when I returned, by then it was too late to keep the secret from him.” Petyr responded.

Cersei sat up straight in an instant. “My father mustn’t know about this. It’s the only thing I have above him, my only way to victory. Pycelle must be silenced before he sends word to my father.”

“Rest assured, your grace. No ravens have been sent since the discovery, not even Pycelle knows the exact location of your father at the moment. In any case, Pycelle won’t see the sun. He’ll be dead before the city bells ring in the morning.” At Cersei’s questioning glance, Petyr grew a sly smile on his face. “Like I mentioned, the girls in my establishment are much more than whores. The company Pycelle chooses to warm his bed at night are much deadlier than he believes. I had them slip a few tears of Lys into his wine. The maesters will claim he died of a fever in the morning.”

“You’ve certainly thought of everything, Lord Baelish.” The look in her eyes turned hungry, as she looked at the devious man before her. The way in which he spoke and his cleverness aroused her in a way her brother never had. Jaime has always lacked the ambition that she had so much of. They were opposite sides of the same coin. She was deceitful, whereas Jaime sought honor. She was lustful, whereas Jaime was cautious. They had been close because they only had each other. But faced with a man who resembled her in so many ways, she couldn’t help being attracted to such a man. Cersei felt a surge of heat growing between her legs, and unconsciously rubbed her legs together for release. It’s been so long, Cersei thought. 

Deciding to continue their previous game, Cersei purred, “I suppose this is the part where I repay you for your secret.” She leaned forwards suggestively, allowing her gown to swoop low revealing the tops of her soft bosom. 

Littlefinger, for his credit, stayed emotionless as he stared right back into Cersei’s eyes, unflinchingly. “What does my queen have to offer?” Petyr asked.

“Why don’t I show you your reward, Lord Baelish?” Cersei said sultrily, standing up and walking towards where Littlefinger was seated. She came to a stop between Petyr’s legs. Placing her hands on the armrest of his chair, Cersei leaned forward, giving Petyr a generous glimpse down the top of her gown. She’s not wearing any smallclothes, Littlefinger noted. Cersei then moved close to Petyr and whispered, “Have you ever thought of fucking the Queen?”

Littlefinger gulped, barely able to maintain his control at this point. “What of Jaime, your grace? Surely he wouldn’t be …”

Cersei silenced him with a finger to his lips. “I want you.” She then gave the strings on her waist a tug, and began to strip off her royal gown. Her shoulders were revealed first. The smooth skin seemingly not aged a day since she first flowered. Then the silk flowed over her teats, inching teasingly slow. Finally, Cersei’s magnificent breasts were uncovered and jiggled slightly as they sprang free of her gown. The rest of her dress dropped to her feet as Cersei bared her beautiful nude body to Petyr. She stepped over her dress on the ground, each breast shook slightly with her steps. The only objects remaining on her was a beautiful necklace with a green sapphire adornment that matched the intensity of her eyes and a thin gold waist chain that hugged her slim figure. Despite birthing three children, Cersei still boasted an impressively fit figure, only know with supple breasts from feeding.

Petyr couldn’t help but break eye contact with Cersei while his eyes roamed Cersei’s figure with lust. While some women like Catelyn shined the brightest in their own beauty, Petyr couldn’t deny that the jewelry made Cersei even more desirable, beautiful, and forbidden. For someone of his birth to be faced in front of the most powerful and beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms, his blood started to boil, melting the ice in his veins. Just simply the carnal dream of fucking the Queen, drove him to lust.

Cersei ran her hand up the inside of Petyr’s thigh and cupped his manhood teasingly while biting her lip and staring directly into Littlefinger’s eyes. “I see I’m not the only one aroused.” Cersei let out a small giggled, “It appears your name is quite deceiving, Littlefinger.”

Petyr gave a smug look towards Cersei before standing up to a level height with Cersei. He brought her close with a hand wrapped around her back at the waist, pressing his manhood between her legs. His other hand cupped her breast gently, his thumb teasing her teat. 

“I want you to fuck me until I scream my throat raw.”

“By your command, your grace.”


End file.
